His Muse: A Tale about a Desperate Housewife
by mrsmcclnt
Summary: Story co-Author by Viv. It was a simple research project for his new book and another opportunity to increase his fortune. Never would he have believed to fall in love on the way.
1. The Beginings of Friendship

He watched her take the ruby colored liquid and pour it into the container. She then took a small brush, dipped it into the fluid, and made tiny strokes along the base of the wall.

"So this is how you get rid of them?" he asked with a bemused expression.

"Oh yes. A little dragon's blood goes a long way in keeping these roaches out."

"Amazing." But it wasn't the blood he found so fascinating - it was her. Molly Weasley.

So many women in his life only cared for his money, his fame, his good looks. But he could see that she couldn't care less. Molly was different from any woman he'd met. She had a giving soul and cared deeply for the people in her life, particularly her family. She looked beyond his outward appearance to appreciate his mortal being.

Aside from his mother, he had never known such a giving person in his life. And since he had no one like that who would take care of him, he conspired these sessions with her (bribing her with Galleons), so he could see her now and again. Being around her goodness made him feel so loved.

"Mr. Lockhart, if you don't mind me saying, I can't imagine that a man like you would keep such an unkempt house."

He was so caught up in her angelic voice that he didn't quite understand what she was saying. However, once he realized what she'd said, his eyes widened with embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry for the mess. This is all part of my research for the book I'm writing."

"Oh yes, the book," she muttered. She continued to apply the paint to the wall without looking at him.

"Yes. '_A Good Witch's Guide to Cleaning' _or something to that. I'll get the title sorted once I get close to the end of it." He could sense from her low utterance that she was irritated. He had her working around the house all day, stealing her time away from her family. He'd been forced to come up with this 'research' idea to justify her visits with him.

"I really do appreciate the help, Mrs. Weasley." He hated saying _Mrs_. Weasley.

"Well, Mr. Lockhart, keep in mind that I have my own house to tend to, and I can't keep –"

She saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a lavender purse. He reached for her hand and placed the bag in her palm.

"I don't mean to be selfish with your time." He was amazed that her hand could still remain so soft after all the hard work she had done. He held on to it as he looked into her heated expression. "Just please take this in return for my gratitude. I know you want to give your family a good holiday."

Her glare softened some as she pocketed the money. He had hoped it would make her smile, but he knew that would have been asking for too much. His best bet was that his money would keep her coming back for more.

She turned away from him, not only to hide the distaste his touch has caused her, but because she didn't want him to catch the slightly satisfied smile that wanted to appear on her lips. This whole situation was rather annoying; she was stuck with him all day, cleaning his filthy house, while all he did was watch her do the dirty work. If it weren't for her personal issues, she would have quit a long time ago.

But unfortunately, she needed him. Money had always been a problem for Mrs. Weasley and her husband, as their decision to have a big loving family was putting a lot of pressure on their finances. Mr. Lockhart excelled at a particular skill she couldn't handle very well: he knew how to make money. It wasn't a skill on its own, but she needed it desperately, and he could provide it for her. Nonetheless, he didn't seem to mind at all. As long as she was cooperating for his research, his 'generosity' seemed infinite.

At first, she had thought this would be a piece of cake. The man was handsome and definitely charming, so there would be nothing to worry about. At least, she'd thought that before they started to work together. Within a week of being in his company, she already couldn't stand him. Gilderoy Lockhart was the most selfish and insignificant human being she had ever met. He was so full of himself that he was probably thinking his mere presence was the best thing Molly could ask for. If he only knew how much effort was required for her to return to his house – which wasn't even decent enough to be called that – he would certainly cut off his little payments. That was the last thing she wanted.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Weasley?"

She jumped. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she had almost forgotten he was there. _And that would have been too good to be true_ she thought.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

"Oh, good!" he exclaimed. "For a second, it looked like something was disturbing you. Of course, I would've dealt with that matter without hesitation! But you already know that while I'm by your side, you have nothing to worry about."

Molly arched an eyebrow at the comment. Fortunately, she had turned back to the wall, so he didn't notice the gesture.

"Of course!" she simply answered. "Then I suppose you won't mind me asking you for your help on a little problem I encountered earlier."

"Whatever your need is, I'll be delighted to take care of it for you!" He beamed at her.

"It's quite simple, actually. I was in the study upstairs this afternoon, checking if our little cleaning session had worked properly, and I noticed a boggart hiding in that big cupboard. I was wondering if you could go in there and scare the thing away."

"A...a boggart, you say?" Lockhart asked carefully, his lips twitching a bit.

"Yes. Annoying creature, isn't it? I've never been lucky with boggarts, to be honest. Somehow I always have difficulty getting rid of the ones I come across. So I thought this was clearly more your field of expertise than mine."

"Right..."

Molly could see her request didn't please him too much. He was avoiding her gaze, looking rather interested by something on his robes.

"I'm sorry?" she prodded.

"I mean, yes, you're very right, Mrs. Weasley. I can certainly manage the situation. A boggart, nothing more easy...a simple spell and it's done!"

Gilderoy Lockhart gave his best _Witch-Weekly _smile before making his way to the study. Merlin knew he had never attempted to battle such a creature, but he couldn't let Mrs. Weasley know that. He also knew that if he backed down now he would look like a coward and a fool.

He did not want to fail her.

He stepped into the room, leaving Mrs. Weasley to check up on some other things around the house. A few moments later, Lockhart reappeared in the kitchen, looking haggard and worn, yet he immediately perked up upon seeing her.

"Ah! Such a feisty devil this one is," he said, still flashing his charismatic smile.

"Well, I'm glad you were able to get rid of it for me," she said as she went to the cupboard to make some tea.

Lockhart tried to maintain a calm composure but found his throat feeling tight, as if he had fallen into a noose.

Mrs. Weasley looked over to him with a questioning stare. "It _is _gone, isn't it?"

"It's putting up a good fight, my dear," he said, "but I fought back harder, for I did not want to fail you."

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes as she turned back to the pot of tea.

He continued to regale her with his epic battle of man against boggart. "For a moment there, I thought I was done for."

"Really?" she muttered under her breath.

"Yes, well…this one is really smart and…really, REALLY huge!" He held his hands as far apart as he could to show its enormity. He acted out the whole scene for her as she continued to tend to the stove. His performance was worthy of a Shakespearean play as he raced around the room to show her how he had outwitted the fiend. At one moment, he was shadowboxing to display his hand-to-hand combat skills. Then, he brandished his wand as if it were a sword to demonstrate how he had fenced the boggart into partial submission. Once he finished his tale, he paused to accept the adulations, but was greeted only by the sounds of clattering teacups on a serving tray.

Part of him panicked, thinking maybe she had lost faith in his abilities. He quickly rushed to her side to grab hold of her hand as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"But never fear, Mrs. Weasley. I will get rid of that beast for you." He could sense that she was a bit startled by his touch, so he gave his best charming smile to ease the tension. Her smile back was less then pleased.

Lockhart stayed awake for hours that night, ignoring his mounting fan mail, while trying to find a way to defeat the boggart. Every day he would bravely charge into the study to try out what he had found. And every day he would come up with no results, leaving him feeling more defeated than the day before.

Night after night, he would dream that he was in the study, wand at the ready, and prepared to fight. The boggart would taunt him and then suddenly transform itself into his mother.

"Gillyweed, why do you hurt me so?" it would plead before pretending to fall dead to the floor. His body stood rigid at the sight of his dead mother. He couldn't even get a spell out between his sobbing wails.

Through his tears, he could see Mrs. Weasley standing in the background looking severely disappointed. "You said you would protect me, Lockhart. Sounds like hollow words from an old fool." Her dissatisfaction left him sleepless for many nights.

After days of less-than-victorious battles, Lockhart greeted the morning again feeling half awake but fully determined to win this round. He greeted Mrs. Weasley as usual, who waited for him outside the study where the boggart played.

"Today is the day!" he boldly stated before charging into the room. Surprisingly enough, he was able to hang in there for a few hours more than before. Yet in the end, he still ended up defeated, but this time he was crawling out of the room on his hands and knees.

As he sat on the floor, trying to contain his fright, his senses picked up on the familiar scent of home baked cookies. Mrs. Weasley stood at the end of the hall with a tray of milk and treats.

"I thought this might help you feel better," she said, holding them out to him.

It was an unexpected pleasure to see her smile at him. He thought it was another boggart trick, but when she rested her hand on his, he knew she was real.

"Whenever I try to fight a boggart, it always changes into my husband and my children, lying dead on the ground. That's why it's so hard for me to fight them."

"Well, you're a loving mother, whose greatest fear is to see her family hurt. Obviously you'd hate to fight such a creature."

"And you are a human being," she started, sounding a bit remorseful at her words. "It was wrong of me to think that you wouldn't have fears like mine and to let you face them while I sat back and watched."

Mrs. Weasley nodded with a humbling smile before she straightened to leave. Lockhart tried to give her some money for her day's work, but Mrs. Weasley waved her hand in protest. "No. I can't take it. Not after what I put you through."

"But I was glad to do it!"

"I know you were. But I wasn't glad to watch you do it. Maybe at first I was…but-" she shook her head.

Lockhart could see the guilt etched into her kind face. She grabbed her purse to head for the door, but Lockhart took hold of her arm to stop her.

"But the children!" he said.

"What about them?"

"I know you want them to have a good holiday. Take my money for them."

"The holiday is a few months away. We'll manage just fine."

But he could tell from the uncertainty in her tone that she wasn't quite sure if they would.

Lockhart's mind scrambled as he tried to find another way to keep her from leaving. As her hand finally reached the doorknob, the idea came to him. "What about school? I know Hogwarts can get very expensive with their supply list. Maybe I could help? How many do you have?"

Her eyes shot downward as if she were hesitant to respond, "It's just my six boys and one girl. My youngest, Ron and Ginny, haven't started at Hogwarts yet."

"Well my goodness, woman, no wonder you are working so hard for them. I was raised as an only child, and yet my mother spoiled me with everything. Surely, you would allow me to do the same for your children for all that you've done for me?"

She bit her lip as she mulled over his offer. "We _have _had to rely on a lot of hand me downs lately to get by with the expenses."

He could see that she was about to reconsider, but the guilt still lay heavily on her heart.

"But, Mr. Lockhart-"

"Call me Gilderoy. All my friends do. Well, if I had any real friends they would." The smile he showed her was pure and sincere. It didn't flash with its usual charismatic charm, but beamed brightly from within his heart.

He could see Mrs. Weasley turning a bright shade of pink, which he thought matched perfectly with her beautiful red hair. "You would still call me your friend after I sent you in there to fight the boggart?"

"As long as you have milk and cookies waiting for me, I would gladly fight any creature you feared," he told her.

He could tell his flattery was getting him somewhere with her, since she eventually agreed to continue on with him.


	2. Decisions and Indecisions

Everything was going smoothly at the Burrow that rainy afternoon. The rooms had been dusted to perfection, the beds were made, and the dishes were washed. Slowly turning the pages of the last edition of the _Witch Weekly _magazine, Molly watched from the corner of her eye as a pile of clothes folded themselves on the couch. After the exhausting weeks spent away from her home, it felt good to be back to her routine. She still had housework to do, but she didn't mind; she was feeling much more comfortable working by her rules and for her family.

Gilderoy had given them both a week of relaxation from their cleaning sessions. He had finally chased the boggart away, to his utter satisfaction, and declared that they needed a few days to rest. So here she was, attending to her usual tasks and thinking about the astonishing progress they had made in terms of friendship. A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have believed it was possible for them to even get along; now, she was calling him by his first name and didn't mind so much to be his employee. He could be really charming when he wanted to.

As she turned another page of her magazine, a familiar face caught her attention. It was an article on Gilderoy Lockhart. His charming face looked up at her, flashing his trademark smile.

**Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_ A man of many talents_!**

He looked so sure of himself on that picture, almost invincible...but Molly knew better. Seeing him so scared of that boggart had showed her he actually had flaws, that he could be real from time to time. And he seemed to care about her and her children. A part of her was really flattered by his interest. Yes, he was a natural show-off, but she liked to believe the little spectacle he was making was really to impress her.

She shook her head at that, closing the magazine and throwing it on the coffee table in front of her. There was dinner to make, anyway.

She moved to the kitchen and slowly started to prepare the food. She was soon interrupted by her husband, who was slowly coming towards the kitchen door. Putting her knife on the counter top, Molly narrowed her eyes so she could see him better. He was carrying something under his right arm that she couldn't quite identify. He entered the room a few moments later, his brows furrowed, and he put his 'package' down on the table. It was in fact a white owl, which flapped his huge wings, sore from the journey. Molly turned around to look at her husband. He folded his arms and stared at her.

She smiled tentatively. "You're home early, dear!"

Ignoring her, he pointed out the owl. "I found him perched on our backyard fence, looking a bit lost. You've got mail."

The bird held out his leg to reveal a pale envelope with Molly's name on it. She carefully reached for it and opened it. She instantly recognized the tidy writing on the parchment. Her heart seemed to beat faster as she frenetically started to read the letter.

_My dear Molly,  
_

__

I hope that everything is going well for you as we start our week off. I feel extremely awful to disturb you at home with my matters, but something rather unpleasant happened during your absence. All our efforts and good work might be compromised.

I know this is completely egotistical of me to even think of asking you, but if you could come as soon as possible to my house, I would be eternally grateful. Know that, of course, you are free to refuse; we are, after all, supposed to be on vacation.

__

Truly yours,

_  
Gilderoy Lockhart _

"Is it from anyone I know?" Arthur asked after a moment.

"What?" She was so absorbed in her reading she hadn't noticed that he was still staring at her. "Oh, no, I don't think so..."

"It wouldn't be from a certain Gilderoy Lockhart, by any chance?"

Molly looked up at him in disbelief, clutching the letter to her chest. How could he know about Gilderoy? She had been extra careful not to let anyone know about the time she was spending at his house. She didn't want to hurt Arthur's pride regarding their finances. She had simply thought that she could have come up with an explanation for the extra money later, when the research with her benefactor was over.

"I don't understand-" she began.

"I took the elevator with Malfoy this morning, and he mentioned how sad he was to learn that my wife had to clean other peoples' messes to help us pay the bills. And when I asked him what in Merlin's name he was talking about, he told me his wife saw you leave Lockhart's house several times last week! Is this true?"

She instinctively sat down. She could only imagine how insulted Arthur must have felt upon hearing Lucius Malfoy's little remark. "Yes, it is," she murmured.

"You've really been cleaning his house?"

"Yes, for a project of his - a new book he wants to write about household cleaning." She crumpled the letter with her hands distractedly.

"And he's paying you to do it?" The surprise in his voice seemed to grow bigger as the conversation went.

"Yes. It was a good opportunity to earn extra money." Molly saw him shake his head in disapproval. "You know we need it," she added.

At her words, he walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Listen to me, Molly." His tone now sounded a bit sad, even though she knew, just from the redness of his ears, that he was trying not to lose his temper. "I may not have a job that gives us a lot of money, but you don't have to do this. My own wife will not become a cleaning lady, especially not for that...that man! As long as I'll be able to work, I swear I won't let it happen."

"But, Arthur, I'm only doing this for our family. For the kids! Don't you want what's best for them? Gilderoy said he'd pay for the school expenses! Fred and George could get new wands, and Percy needs a new set of robes, and–"

Arthur let go of her and backed away, and she knew she had just made a mistake. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst.

"I don't care what he promised you or what he wrote you in that letter!" he burst out. "I can take care of my family just fine. I don't need his charity. I don't want you to have anything to do with that man ever again...or any other man, for that matter. Is it clear?"

"But Arthur–"

"Have I made myself clear?" he interrupted brusquely, clenching his fists on either side of his body.

Molly nodded, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Without another word, Arthur turned around and stormed out of the kitchen. She waited until she was certain he was gone before standing up and walking up to the window. Wiping off her tears with the back of her hand, she looked down at the letter she still held.

What was she supposed to do now?


	3. Foolishness

Under the cloak of darkness, Lockhart made a mad dash for the garden shed. He hastened towards the bushes outlining the yard. His eyes peered around every corner as he hoped he wouldn't be seen approaching her house. He knew she was here somewhere.

For the last few days, he had been worried. Molly hadn't responded to his letter. He had finally made some headway in their friendship and was looking forward to seeing her again. Over their break, he'd found that he missed her company.

There wasn't anything in his house he could possibly use as a reason to bring her back, so he'd had to lie and make something up. But after her silent response to his letter, he worried his little ruse had gone awry.

Lockhart thought he heard footsteps coming in his direction, so he hurried over to the corner of the house to take cover. As he got closer to the window, he felt himself lurch forward and fall hard towards the ground. To his surprise, he looked down to see a garden gnome standing quietly at his feet.

"Mr. Lockhart?" came a voice from the window. His dirt layered face looked up to Molly's confused, warm-hearted smile. "I thought I heard a noise. I didn't realize you were here."

Lockhart leapt up and brushed himself off. "Oh, it was nothing, really," he said, trying to recover from his awkward fall. But he could see Molly's eyes wandering to the gnome at his feet, so he slyly stepped in front of it to regain her attention. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Well, there really was nothing to disturb. The older boys are at school, Ron and Ginny are at my Aunt Muriel's for the evening, and Arthur is working late at the Ministry again. Apparently some rogue toilet seats were causing trouble in a Muggle village. He and a team of Oblivators were sent to clean up the mess."

The idea of her husband and Ministry officials chasing after rabid toilets made Lockhart chuckle. Molly laughed with him, too.

"Speaking of messes," he started hesitantly, "I noticed that you haven't answered my letter."

Molly's smile faltered. "I meant to, Mr. Lockhart-"

"Please. I asked you to call me Gilderoy."

She paused. "I meant to, Gilderoy, but…my husband…and I-"

He could see from the way she stumbled over her words that his request has stirred up trouble. "Say no more, Molly. I have been selfish with your time. I bid you good evening." He made a dramatic turn, whirling his cape behind him, and started in the other direction.

"Wait!" She ran towards the back porch. "What trouble are you having at the house? Maybe I can offer some hints or-"

"It's hard for me to explain," he lied. He was afraid to turn and face her, fearing his smile might gave him away. He needed her to come with him, but somehow he had to bait her into leaving. "You would have to see it for yourself. But I don't want to trouble you. Good night, Mrs. Weasley." As he started up the walk again, he could hear quick footsteps coming from behind. He turned to see her standing beside him with a look of concern on her face.

"I suppose I could take a look. But a quick one – I can't be too long," she said quickly.

"Of course, I understand." He kept a stern expression on his face to mask the abundance of joy that leaped in his heart. Together, they Apparated to his place to assess the situation.

As they stood in the foyer of the house, he watched with amusement as Molly looked around quickly to try and find the problem. "I don't see anything. And why is it so dark in here?"

_Lumos!_

With a grand wave of his wand, he showed her his surprise. The house was a spectacle of lavish paintings, lush floral printed wallpaper, and beautiful upholstered furniture. Soft pastels of all colors adorned the room.

With his smile spread as wide as his arms, he presented Molly with the newly decorated place. But as he looked at her, he could see her discomfort.

"I've never seen such elegance before. You have quite a place here," she spoke humbly. She was careful not to look at him.

Lockhart took hold of her hand, making mental notes of its smoothness, and looked deeply into her eyes.

"My good woman, if it weren't for your hard work, this place would be in shambles." His tone offered so much reassurance that he could see her cheeks reddening. "You are my most welcomed guest."

He could see Molly opening up to his smile, until she eyed the clock.

"I should be going." She pulled away from his touch and made to depart.

"But wait!" he stammered. What could he say to make her stay? "You haven't seen the whole place!"

"It's getting late. Arthur will be coming home soon."

"Well, late as it is, I'm sure he'll be picking up something to eat on his way home. Have you even had dinner?"

"But-"

"Come now, Molly. I won't take up too much of your time. Just stay for a moment and enjoy the fruits of your labor."

He motioned her to the dining room where their feast awaited. He lowered his expression, trying to give a child-like demeanor to his plea. "Pretty please, with sugar."

He saw Molly look towards the door, then hesitantly back to the dining room. "Just a moment, Mr.-"

"Gilderoy…"

She smiled playfully at him as she walked by. He seated her at the head of the table as he took his place by her side. He was about to wave his wand to start the feast when a touch of nervousness caught hold of him.

"Something wrong?" Molly asked.

Lockhart shook his head, still trying to retain a calm appearance. "Nothing. I'll be right back."

When he returned, he held a different wand than the one he'd had before. It was stark white – so white it seemed to sparkle as he held it in his hand.

"This was my great-grandmother's wand, passed down to my mother and then to me. My Mum told me that Great Gran was a fairy godmother, probably one of the ones Muggles write about in their fairytales."

Lockhart felt a little awkward talking about his family. He wasn't used to it. But when he saw Molly listening to him intently, her eyes sharp and focused on his face, pride washed over him.

"Mum said that if I ever wanted to make a moment special, then to use Great Gran's wand to give that special spark to the evening. And I can't think of a better reason to use it than right now."

With a wave of Great Gran's wand, the dishes sprang to life and paraded around the table. Celestina Warbeck crooned in the background. All the glasses and silverware performed in perfect unison as they twirled around and around on the table. Each little dish had its own routine before landing gently on a plate. By the end of the performance, Molly and Lockhart were full of food and laughter.

He had never enjoyed himself more with any other woman. It brought him immense pleasure to see someone else enjoy the luxuries he had always taken for granted. Seeing Molly's smile made him feel like a new man. Seeing the sparkle in her eyes felt like he was seeing the whole world anew.

As he reached across to hold her hand, he found himself marveling once more at the tenderness in her grip. As hardworking as she was, her hand still felt smooth and soft to touch. A lover's hand.

It was the greatest moment of his life.

After a few long moments, Molly turned away from the intensity of his gaze. But Lockhart, moved by the time they'd spent together, cupped Molly's chin so he could stare into her eyes again. She didn't fight him, and kindness filled her eyes and reflected back at him.

There weren't enough words that could express how he felt that evening, so he decided to simplify his expression into the universal phrase:

"Molly, I love you."

She stared at him for a moment, to let the words he had just said sink in. Then, she slowly turned her head away from him again, feeling a bit dizzy. Deep inside, she knew this was coming. They had spent so much time together over the past few months; she had seen him behave in front of her, always trying to please her, to make her stay longer when the day was nearly over. And tonight, he had planned this perfect dinner, worthy of the most beautiful fairytales. You had to be blind not to notice the obvious.

Had she hoped for his declaration? She bit her lower lip at the thought, resisting slightly to admit the truth. No other man than her husband had ever shown interest for her. Could she be blamed for wanting to be desired after all these years of marriage? Nevertheless, she had never wished for something more than her family life before. What was wrong with her?

"Molly?"

She looked at Gilderoy again, who was still holding her hand. She could read anxiety on his handsome face; he was pale and his lips were twitching, just like when she had asked him to fight the boggart.

"Say something, please." It almost sounded like a supplication. She tried to smile, but pretty much failed at it.

"Gilderoy..." she began slowly. "I don't know what to say, to be honest. Tonight felt like a dream. I never experienced something like that before..."

"Say that you share the same humble feelings than mines and I promise I'll make your every-day life feels like a dream!"

"And I'm sure you would. I really enjoy the time we spend together, I do. I could never thank you enough for everything that you've done for me, but..."

"But you don't love me..." he let out in a whisper.

This time, she managed to smile sadly. No, she didn't love him. She knew it. This wasn't love. It was longing for something more, a little excitement in her life. It was dreaming of a life without worries, a life where money would rain from the sky and wash away all her problems. It was searching for easiness. But she couldn't just give up on her life for the first charming man coming her way.

She raised her hand to his face to comfort him. He closed his eyes as her palm touched his cheek. "I have a lot of affection for you", she responded calmly. "But we both know this is impossible. I have a husband and children that I care about very much. I couldn't forgive myself if I'd ever hurt them. I already feel bad for hurting you right now. I'm sorry, Gilderoy, if I misled you. It wasn't my intention."

She delicately withdrew her hand from his face and got up. "I think I'd better leave now."

Lockhart didn't speak nor move. She walked away from the table and was about to turn on the spot to Disapparate when he suddenly grabbed her arm and drew her close to him.

"Molly! Please don't go! You can't leave me this way!" He was trembling badly. He looked so vulnerable at the moment, almost like a little child about to be abandoned by his mother. Molly felt her heart tighten in her chest. She took his hands in hers and put a soft, reassuring kiss on his lips. Then, she carefully stepped away from him and disappeared.

She reappeared in her kitchen and stood still for a moment, listening. Everything seemed quiet in the house. A quick glance at the clock indicated to her that Arthur was back from work. She found him indeed in the living room, sitting in an armchair, his gaze lost in the flames crackling in front of him. He looked up at her as she approached.

"Where have you been, Molly?" he asked, his voice betraying his worry. "I've been waiting for you for hours."

"I thought you were supposed to work late," she replied somewhat nervously.

"We managed to handle the situation quicker than we thought. So I came home right away, thinking that I could spend a nice evening with my wife."

"Well, I can have dinner ready for you in just a moment," she said quickly, hoping to avoid some confrontation.

But before she could leave the room, Arthur responded calmly, "You still haven't answered my question."

Guilt overcame her instantaneously. While she was enjoying herself in Gilderoy's company, she didn't think about Arthur for a single second. How could she have been so selfish? She kept her head down to evade her husband's gaze.

"I just stepped out to visit a friend."

"And who would that friend be at this late hour?" he asked. His tone remained steady while his eyes studied her demeanor.

She could feel the tension mounting in her chest. By the questioning in his eyes, Molly wondered if her husband had been studying Legilimency while at the Ministry. She knew she had to come clean or else she would faint from nervousness. "I went to see Gilderoy."

"Gilderoy… Lockhart?" he asked in slow disbelief. "But I thought I asked -"

"More like you told me not to," she said defensively, but quickly changed her tune when she saw the incredulous look he gave her. "He said he needed me!"

"And what kind of help could he need this late at night?"

The question left her stumped. She could feel herself fidgeting while searching for the truth to his question. She knew she had backed herself into a corner with this one, since Gilderoy didn't really need her help. But could she explain that to her husband without him exploding? And more so, how much could she tell without going into details of the evening?

She was desperate not to hurt his feelings. She could see that he looked hurt enough.

"Nothing happened, Arthur. Nothing happened." She turned away from him to avoid his reaction. She picked up a nearby duster and started to brush off some of her figurines that sat upon the mantle. She tried to carry on as if everything was normal, knowing it wasn't. She hoped her response was sufficient enough for him, but Arthur just kept on with the issue.

His tone still remained calm, but carried a hint of skepticism in his words. "In all our years of marriage, I've never seen you dust without magic… or avoid my questions like the way you have tonight. I've never known you to sneak out –"

"I didn't sneak!" she cried out softly.

"Fine. I've never known you to i_leave/i_ our house, without a word, at this late hour… to go off and be with a… friend." She could hear his voice waiver, but she didn't dare to look in his direction for fear it would implicate her further.

"You have always been able to look me in the eyes when we've talked about things. Yet tonight, you act as though it pains you to do so when I'm speaking to you." Arthur gently spun her around to force her to face him. She could feel his tender grip on her arms, keeping her in place.

"I know I haven't been home much lately, but you seem very different. And I can't help wondering how or why. Have I been a bad husband to you, Molly? A bad father to our children? Have I failed you in some way over the years?"

"No!" Her eyes widened as the question surprised her. Why would he feel at fault when she was the one to blame?

"Each day, I get up and go to work so I can give you everything you need, to make sure you can live a decent life by my side. Maybe those efforts weren't enough after all; maybe I should've done more..."

"That's not true!" Molly cried out. "Arthur, how can you believe – "

"Then, explain to me what I've done wrong, because right now, I'm very lost."

And Molly could hear it by the way his tone cracked at the end of his sentence. She could feel his heated breath against her face as he held her firmly to him. As her hand rested on his chest, she felt his heart booming fiercely from within. She still hadn't managed to look him in the eye because she didn't want to see his painful expression.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You've always been a good husband, kind, thoughtful. Heaven blessed me when they put you on my path. I'm so sorry, Arthur. I've never meant to hurt you."

"Then, tell me why you were with Lockhart tonight? What were you doing over there?"

She swallowed with difficulty, feeling tears coming to her eyes. If her husband had been using Legilimency on her then, he would see how much fun she had as another man doted on her. Arthur would see how much she soaked up all of Lockhart's attention as he showed her such a good time. Arthur would see how Lockhart leaned into her and made her tremble as he whispered 'I love you'. And then he would see the kiss.

She knew she couldn't tell him all those things, not without him going through the roof. It would be too much for him to handle, too much for him to comprehend. All she could manage to say was a weak "I've been foolish..."

The sad truth was that she didn't know what else to say.

Arthur sighed deeply. He released his grip on Molly then slowly rubbed his eyes with his hands. Without looking at her, he said: "You may not know this, but from the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to spend my life with you. I may not be the most handsome man with the brightest smile, or a rich lord who can provide you the most beautiful gifts, but I would give my life for you if I had to. I love you, Molly, more than anything, more than anyone; but if it's him that you want, I guess there's nothing more I can do."

Molly watched him get up and pass before her, too stunned to hold him back. As he reached the stairs leading to the bedrooms, she sat down on the floor and started to cry.


	4. Runaway Lovers

His body laid lifeless on top of his silk duvet

His body laid lifeless on top of his silk duvet. Lockhart still wore the same suit he had worn when Molly had last seen him in days ago. He had no motivation to change clothes, move around, eat, or even sleep. He just wanted to lay still and hope the world would go away on its own.

_I wish I could stop thinking about her _was all that echoed in his mind as his eyes stayed fixated at the crown molding around the ceiling.

If he could simply obliviate himself, it could possibly solve his immediate problem. But he knew that the void within him would still be there. It was an emptiness that he felt for so long, being surrounded by people who seemed to care but only wanted his money, people who wanted to extend their five minutes of fame.

But that hole had begun to heal in Molly's presence. Her genuine nature and kindness helped him to believe that there was truly some goodness left in the world.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid _rambled his thoughts as he continued to think of her.

He should have never told her how he felt. He should have never said those words, no matter how sweet they were to say. He should have just sat there and felt grateful to even have her in his presence. But it was too late. The joy of the moment over had took him. And before he could take back what he had said, she Apparated from his sight.

_She's gone._

His body felt as though a herd of centaurs stampeded over him. He hadn't a care in the world, since the one woman he loved did not share his feelings in return. But his body gave a sudden unsettling warning, that if he didn't eat soon, it would cease to keep him alive. So, reluctantly, he moped out of bed and down the hall towards the kitchen.

Every step in his pristine house was a painful reminder of what one was and what could have been. As beautifully decorated the place looked, he knew Molly would have given it her extra special touch to make it more homey. As he walked passed the study, he remembered that it was the place where he finally broke through in their friendship after he defeated the boggart. As he looked along the floor, he remembered how Molly painstakingly brushed every ounce of dragon's blood along the baseboard to keep the roaches out.

And then, of course, there was the kitchen... Molly's domain.

"I can't do this," he mumbled before he turned on his heels and disappeared. The next thing he knew, he was standing at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, pulling up a chair.

The old barkeeper eyed the strange spectacle that sat at his table. "So what can I get you?"

Lockhart didn't have a clue as to what he would order in this less-then-classy establishment. So he pulled out a handful of Galleons and laid it out on the counter. "What ever is good and strong that I could buy with this."

The barkeeper picked up his money and bit into one of the pieces to verify that the money was good. He looked back to Lockhart and chuckled, "Looks like you have some female troubles. I got just the thing." The old man waved his wand to make a pretty crystal decanter appear. Lockhart brow rose slightly as he eyed the bottle, wondering how something so expensive could end up in a place like this. "It's a special whiskey - better then Fire whiskey. It's said to have been brewed by Goblins."

"Hmm. Sounds good enough." It was better then wiping out his memory himself. A few drinks of the stuff could take the edge off his heartache. So he poured himself a small shot of the liquor and saluted the bartender.

In one sip he started to feel all his worries slipping away from him.

"Gilderoy?" The silky feminine tone roused him from his drunken stupor. "Gilderoy Lockhart?" The sound was getting closer but his eyes had yet to focus on the subject standing in front of him. He had partly hoped that it was Molly coming to rescue him from his sad alcoholic existence. But from the shade of blonde around the person's head, he ruled out the possibility that it was his favorite red head.

"Miss?"

"Rita - Rita Skeeter." She had a polite but expectant look on her face as if she were ready for him to acknowledge her name. But Lockhart kept a dumbfounded expression, wondering why he had been woken. "I'm surprised to see such a prominent author in this...type of...establishment."

"Well, _Miss Skipper_," he was so drunk that he couldn't keep his head still as he talked to her, "I'm not surprised to see a woman, such as yourself, with your bleached blonde tresses and overly done make-up in this cheap dump." His head fell hard back down on the table, leaving Miss Skeeter looking shocked and appalled.

"Female problems," muttered the old bartender who picked up the small shot glass from his drunken patron.

"Really? Do tell."

The next morning was more or less the same as before. Except the heart break he had been feeling was replaced with a resounding migraine. He was surprised to see that he was seated on the couch at his home in some new attire. He wasn't quite sure how he even got home or how he got dressed. But alas, he was there, and he was still alone, without her.

"I see you've woke." Miss Vandercamp, his publicist, entered his parlor with a tray of coffee. "Glad to see you've returned to the land of the living."

He returned her smile with the fake sense it was given to him. His publicist was one of those i_friends/i _that he could count on. Friends who were riding the coat tails of his successes.

"I'm surprised to see you here. What brings you by?"

"Two things." She went to her small pocket purse and reached deep inside. She pulled out a thick manuscript and laid it on his coffee table. "Here's a rough draft of your latest book. I thought you might want to give it the once over before it goes to print."

Gilderoy smiled as he looked at the pages. All the hard work that he and Molly...well mostly Molly... had done were written within its text. He could feel the old feelings swelling inside him again as his headache moved back to his heart. Lockhart quickly tried to regain his composure as he fumbled through the pages, but could see that it was too late from the odd expression on his publicist face.

"Well you could have just owl'd this to me. You didn't have to come all this way," he tried to cover as he smiled sheepishly in her face.

"It was no trouble. Besides, there's something else." She went back to her small purse again, digging around a little more then pulled out a small news clipping to show him.

**Gilderoy Lockhart... **

_Gifted author turned home wrecking gigolo_

The picture that jumped out at him was less then flattering. As he could see, from his lazy demeanor and disheveled look, he was very, very drunk. "How did you get this?"

"Let's just say that I wouldn't be your publicist if I didn't have connections in the right places. The article hasn't gone to print yet. I told the editor to hold off till I spoke with you on this." Lockhart let out a sigh of relief as he slumped back in his seat. Yet he could tell from the way she sat up in her chair that the conversation wasn't over. "So, who is this Molly?"

He moved, jarringly, over to the coffee table to pour himself another cup of java. "No one. No one special." But he could tell by her piercing stare that she didn't buy his statement.

Her arms folded neatly in her lap as she casually crossed her legs. "Gilderoy, this is me you're talking to. I'm your publicist, but I'm also your friend." He hated how she did that, laying out this pretense that she cared when she was just being nosey. "I can deal with the truth. I just need to know what I'm dealing with so I know how to respond if this goes to press."

He let out a deep sigh, seeing that she wasn't going to drop the issue. "She's just a friend."

"Who's married? That's what the article says." He was surprised to hear that and quickly brushed over the article again. There were a lot of things that it had said. A lot of sordid details that weren't quite true. There wasn't a whole lot that he remembered about the conversation. How he was able to say so much shocked the hell out of him. But there were some facts within the article that he couldn't deny.

The fact that he deeply loved Molly was very evident in the story.

He felt a bit embarrassed as he looked at Miss Vandercamp, who kept her inquisitive eye on her client. "Gil," he hated when she called him that, "we are days away before your latest book hits the shelves. This type of negative publicity can hurt your image as well as your sales -"

"Damn my image!" he yelled, slamming the paper onto the table. She looked rather surprised to see him so emotional. "I love this woman! This much is true in the article. So my image means nothing without her!"

After a few awkward moments of silence, Miss Vandercamp cleared her voice to speak. "Then consider this: Do you care enough about i_her/i_ image? Cause she will be dragged through the mud if this gets leaked out."

Later that day, he wandered the streets of Diagon Alley wondering what his next move should be. Miss Vandercamp said that she would try and deal with the situation as best as she could at the editors. But she couldn't say for certain if the article could be kept at bay without giving enough _incentive _to her contact to ditch the story. He could only hope that he gave her enough gold to have the whole thing squashed.

Yet he knew he had to get a hold of Molly to prepare her for the worst. If words got out to the public, then she would be submerged in media attention for being his love interest.

Her silence flustered him. Every owl he's sent got returned to him unopened. The Floo to her house was blocked. Even the Muggle mailing system had trouble delivering post to her address. He didn't know what else to do and he was so desperate to reach her since it was getting so close to press time.

"Excuse me," Lockhart said as he wandered aimlessly into another man's shoulder. As he looked to the man, he was greeted with by the uncomfortable feeling of familiarity as he recognized whom he ran into.

Arthur Weasley had been shopping with his young children, Ron and Ginny. "Gilderoy Lockhart. I recognize you from the pictures... in my wife's magazines." As cordial as he sounded, Lockhart could hear the strain in his voice as he fought to stay polite in front of the children. The kids ran off to look at a near by display, leaving the two men to alone.

"It's good to meet you," Lockhart managed to say rather oddly, hoping he could avoid a fight. "She's told me many good things about you when she came to work for me."

Arthur nodded with a halfhearted grin. "Really?" he said sarcastically, but he was careful not to raise his voice any louder then between them. "Did she say how much she loves her family, her sons?"

"Of course, very much so," Lockhart smiled as he kept up the friendly appearance.

"And did she mention me... her husband?" Arthur eyes bore into him as his tone remained light but in control.

"Of course she-."

"And yet you still persisted." Lockhart tried to interrupt but Arthur beat him to the punch. "Don't play coy with me, Sir. I'm well aware of my wife's good looks. You're not the first nor would you be the last man who has ever fancied my wife."

True, but I seem to be the one who's made an impression on her." As soon as he said those words, he began to regret them. But Arthur didn't respond, even though he was within his marital rights to beat him down within an inch of his life. Arthur silent, deadly stare was threatening enough.

He collected his children from the window display and walked away, leaving Lockhart quaking in his shoes.

After immobilizing the garden gnome in her yard, Lockhart waited patiently outside her home to seize a moment alone with Molly. When Arthur went to work, he moved in quietly, trying to get her attention. He didn't have to wait long, since Molly made her way outside to hang the family laundry.

"Molly?" he whispered to her.

She turned to him slowly, looking frighten as if she had seen her own Bogart. "Mr. Lockhart? What are you doing here?"

"I had no choice but to come. You wouldn't respond to any of my letters that I've sent!" he pleaded with her as she quickened her pace to go back inside her house.

"But I'm home now, Mr. Lock-!"

"Please, don't call me that! You and I both know that we've come to far to go back to such formalities." He was able to grab hold of her arm and spin her around to face him. "Please listen to me." He kept her still long enough to explain about the impending article that might be released. He could see from her expression that she was less than pleased to be put out on display for others to read about. He showed her the paper clipping and then stood back to wait for her tirade.

"You said all these things?" she said in disbelief as her eyes moved furiously over the page.

"Not everything. The only truth in that article is that I love you...and I'm a horrible, horrid mess without you." He could see her relent at his words by the way she blushed. She tried to move away from him again, but he was able to catch hold of her once more.

He felt alive, holding her in his arms, caressing her soft skin, feeling her so near to him. Her hair gave an intoxicating scent of lavender mingled with household cleaner. He was so taken by the highlights in her mane that he buried his face in her curly red flames, breathing in her exotic aroma like and heart patient on a ventilator. He was afraid he would die if he didn't keep hold of the moment. So in a desperate bid at love, he kissed her passionately, fearing the opportunity would never come again.

She fought against him, keeping a tight lip to his advances. But he was persistent. He swooped her to a more secluded area at the back of the house, by a willow tree, where he continued to shower her with his affections. His body leaned into hers as her back rested against the tree's bark. His hand roamed freely along her backside, sampling every soft ample curve of her womanly body. His teeth grazed gently against her neck before it returned to suckle her lips, savoring the sweetness from her mouth.

Molly eventually stopped fighting him as he felt her return his kisses.

His randy fingers removed her kitchen apron, revealing a more flattering pink cotton dress that was laced up at the front. His greedy hands then found their way underneath her dress as he gently caressed her thighs. His fingers slightly touched the smooth satin finish of her undergarment that it found underneath her petticoat.

He was more than willing to remove them, but found himself hesitating in that moment.

She had already rejected his love at the special dinner he had planned for her, which left him devastated for days. If she rejected him again, in the position that he's in, he knew he would be heartbroken forever. Despite having gotten this far with her, Lockhart did not want to become a man who would so boldly take a woman's affections. And he wasn't so foolhardy that he would risk his feelings twice.

So with his smoldering lips locked to her, he managed to whisper, "Molly, I want you more than anything. Please, let me show you. Let me prove to you my worth." His mouth then nestled itself on her neck, trying to coax the right response from her. Soon enough he could feel her answer moaning its way from her throat.

"Yes, Gilderoy. i_Yes_! /i"

In an instant his hands removed the satin barrier between them. Lockhart then hoisted Molly to lay her gently on the soft grass beside the tree. He quickly scanned the area to make sure that they were truly alone. Once he was sure, he unsheathed himself and slid within her warmth.

He was gentle and purposely slow as he moved within her, giving her body a chance to adjust to another man loving her. He could see her skin blush beneath his palms with every gentle stroke he gave. He kept his loving eyes on her as he watched the various expressions on her face. He could see her bite down on her lip to hold back the joy that was trying to escape her. But he would bite back at it to relinquish her sounds of passion.

"Molly," he would whisper over and over again. He loved the way it sounded as he moaned it out her name.

Soon the moment began to over take him as her hips began to move quickly with his. He felt as though he would lose his grip on her as his fingers slip from her sweaty skin. In one sweet lightning flash he found himself exhausted, resting himself comfortably between her bosoms.

He felt like a cherub resting on a cloud high in heaven.

As he felt himself come down to earth, he looked up to Molly's restful face. "Molly, let's leave this place. If this article gets out, I don't want you to look like some kind of harlot. I'll keep you safe. And we'll have enough money to live anywhere we want."

"But my children?"

"We'll leave them with enough money so that they'll be taken care of." His mind worked furiously as worked his way up to the nape of her neck.

"But the kids... and... and..." She pushed him away, causing him to stop before he could go any further. He could tell from the concerned look on her face that it wasn't just her motherly instincts kicking in.

"Molly, I love you. And I know you feel something for me too. Do you think it would be fair for Arthur for you to have these feelings for me?"

She stumbled to her feet as she held herself against the willow tree, keeping some distance between them. "He's my husband! We have vows! I just can't... I can't just leave him like this!"

He was exasperated. He didn't know what else he could say. All he knew was how strongly he felt for her. She tried to walk away from him once more, but he got in her path and held her tightly against him.

She moved her head from side to side to try to avoid his passionate advances. But it was no use. He was able to plant his lips directly on hers, infusing them with all he was feeling from within his heart.

He could feel Molly tremble then fall limp in his arms. He continued to hold her tightly as he whispered, breathlessly in her ear, "I love you, Molly. I don't think I can love this way again. So, please don't make me leave without you."

He looked over his luggage to see if he had forgotten anything. But he suddenly realized that he had what he needed with Molly by his side. Lockhart prepared the finishing touches to his letter to his publicist letting her know what he has done.

"That should do it." He licked the envelope and attached it to his owl. "Make sure she gets it in the morning," he told the bird before sending it off.

He never felt so complete in all his life. He and Molly would run off and live out their happy days together. He had hoped to get a start on their brand new life now, but she insisted on taking care of some last minute things before they jetted off into their happily ever after. She felt it was the least she could do before she left her husband and children behind.

As he gave his baggage the once over again, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He couldn't help but to admire his features, especially when he looked so happy.

_Prince charming has finally found his princess_, he thought as he straightened his hair and flashed his pearly white teeth. Just as he was staring at his reflection, a ruddy old owl fell through his fireplace.

"What the devil?" He went to the bird and saw that there was a blank piece of paper attached to its leg. "Well, it looks like you're lost and your owner seems to be a bit forgetful sending you on a fool's run with no post attached to you." He put the bird in his owl's cage, then proceeded to the kitchen to throw out the parchment. But as he looked at the paper, his eye caught sight of something moving on the page.

Black ink swirled out from the center and started to form words at the heading.

"Gilderoy? Is that you?" From the feminine style handwriting, he guessed that it was Molly.

He picked up a nearby quill at his desk and wrote back, "My love, is that you?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to do this to you this way. I tried to explain before, but you were so... _persistent_."

His heart reached an all-new low as he watched the words unfold in front of his eyes.


	5. Broken Hearts

Molly pushed the kitchen door open with her hip and went out to the backyard to spread out the laundry on the clothes line

Molly pushed the kitchen door open with her hip and went out to the backyard to spread out the laundry on the clothesline. She was in too much of a hurry to dry them herself; the wind would do the job. The basket she was carrying landed on the ground with a light thud as she got her wand out from the pocket of her robes. She made a swift gesture, and the clothes started to align themselves on the line. She stayed still for a moment, watching them without really seeing them. Her eyes darted to her beautiful garden. It would soon come to life once more. Each spring was a delight to her gardener's heart. She couldn't wait for the tulips to grow again, then the begonias and the rosebuds…. The variety of scents filling the house always helped her get through the days more easily. She wondered, a bit wistfully, if she would ever feel the same feeling again where she was going.

The wind picked up suddenly and wrapped her in his powerful gust. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply to let in the fresh air brought by the end of the winter. Maybe it would give her the necessary strength to leave this place. She had made a tough decision earlier, something she had never thought she would ever do. She was leaving her family and her Arthur for another man. For their protection. She would never be able to tolerate their pain and disappointment when they would eventually come across that horrible article. But mostly, Molly didn't want to see the reflection of her own mistakes - worse, her failure. She had failed to be a good mother and a faithful spouse.

Even though it was Gilderoy who had placed them in this situation, she couldn't hold it against him. He had been hurt, and this Skeeter woman had tricked him. If running away with him could heal his bruises, then at least she would have done something good while trying to fix what was broken. He was in love, and she was...definitely attracted. The slightest memory of their burning passion at the foot of the tree would put her in such a state of instability she had never experienced before. Never in her wildest fantasies had she imagined herself doing such a thing. She had been incredibly easy – almost faking her resistance to his caresses – by exposing her adultery for the world to see. For a moment, all notions of right and wrong had totally escaped her. Gilderoy had started a fire inside of her that could only to be extinguished by the blending of their two bodies. She didn't even know why she had wanted him so badly. And she didn't know she had been capable of that kind of behavior – of such selfishness.

He swore he would take good care of her and give her everything her heart desired. As for her, she wasn't sure what she would be able to do for him, or how their life would turn out. Her only hope was to find a bit of happiness in his arms, far away from the sweet comfort of her home. But Gilderoy would never be Arthur.

She shivered slightly, realizing how cold the wind felt on her skin. _As cold as my heart_, she thought bitterly. She opened her eyes to pick up the basket at her feet and went back inside. She rubbed her arms with her hands, welcoming the warmth of her kitchen. Her gaze fell upon the letter on the table she had written to Arthur this morning, explaining why she was leaving the Burrow. After Gilderoy's departure, she had sent Ron and Ginny to Auntie Muriel's place for the day so she could pack up everything she needed for her escape. All of her stuff was ready, shrunken and in her purse. She glanced at the clock on the wall to make sure everyone was safe where they were. She wondered where the hand bearing her name would point when she left.

Molly took a deep breath once more, trying desperately to avoid a nervous breakdown. As she held out her hand to grab her purse, she noticed something was missing. Where was her cloak?

"Where did I put it?" she asked aloud, exasperated. "How in Merlin's name could I forget my cloak in such an important moment?"

She rushed upstairs to the master bedroom and brusquely opened her cupboard door. "Now, where is it?" she muttered. She searched through her clothes without finding it, but then she saw a crumpled black fabric on the shelf at the top of the cupboard.

She furrowed her brows. She had no idea how it had ended up there. She extended her arm to pull it down, only to get hit on the head by a heavy object a second later. Losing her balance, she fell down on her buttocks.

"Stupid cloak," she moaned while rubbing her head.

As she tried to get up, her hand touched what seemed to be a piece of waxed paper. She held out the item in front of her eyes and met the ones of her two older sons. They were smiling widely, Bill showing off a big hole in his mouth where he had lost his baby teeth. Emotion overtook her; she tried to swallow, but her throat felt tight and dry. She touched Charlie's cheek with the tip of her finger and caressed it delicately. She hadn't seen this picture in years. She was so proud to show off her two little boys at the time, carrying them around with her everywhere she went. They weren't so little anymore.

She broke her gaze away from the picture to take a look at her assailant, which was in fact a big cardboard box. Its content had fallen on the floor at the same time she had. She spent the next fifteen minutes looking at the many pictures inside the carton, all of her children and her family life. As she pulled her hand once more from it, she found herself looking not at her kids, as expected, but at a younger version of Arthur and herself. He had his arm around her shoulders and was offering his best grin to the camera. Molly, on his side, had sparkling eyes and pink cheeks, like a little girl up to some mischief. They looked incredibly happy, unaware of the ordeals waiting for them several years later. They had been in love then.

"And we still are," she managed to say in a hoarse voice. How could she have forgotten those moments of simple bliss? How could she have desired something more, when everything she had ever needed was right in front of her, in her possession?

She wiped a lonely tear from her cheek and stood with newfound confidence. She wasn't running away anymore. She was staying right where she was, whatever happened. If she was ready to face the storm, she knew Arthur would stand by her side no matter what. Her betrayal would certainly tear him apart, but she was prepared to do anything to make things right. But for now, Molly had one important thing to deal with: the heart of Gilderoy Lockhart.

So down the stairs she went and back to the kitchen, where she threw her letter in the fireplace. She practically ran into the living room and opened the drawer of her desk. She pulled out two pieces of parchment. Laying them down on the work surface, she took her wand and concentrated on the charm she was about to perform. It was a tricky one; she didn't want it to go wrong. She pronounced the spell and waved her wand twice above the parchment. A white light illuminated them for a few seconds, then faded. Molly dropped her wand on the desk and picked up her quill, dipped it in a bottle of black ink, and let a drop fall on the parchment on her right. The blotch disappeared almost as it touched the paper, as if it had been sucked up by it, but reappeared immediately on the second parchment. She grinned proudly.

She rolled up one of the parchments and went to get her old brown owl in the backyard. "Now, Errol, you must go see Gilderoy Lockhart right now," she told the bird as she attached the parchment to his leg. "It's really important. I'm counting on you." He looked at Molly with tired eyes but took off as soon as she let go of his leg.

She waited for what seemed like forever, sitting straight in her chair and facing a wide window. She would write from time to time on the parchment she had kept to check if Gilderoy had received it, but she didn't get an answer. After another hour of watching a gnome that was trying to destroy the entrance fence, she dipped her quill into the ink again and wrote, _Gilderoy? Are you there?_

Molly almost jumped on her chair when words finally formed themselves on the paper.

_My love? Is that you?_

_Yes_, she wrote back. _I'm sorry to do this to you this way. I tried to explain before, but you were so...persistent._

She didn't wait for his answer before going on with the matter. _Gilderoy, this thing between us can't continue. I know it might seem like I'm playing with your feelings, but it's really not intentional. I can't run away with you._

She held her breath for a few seconds, hoping he wouldn't panic and try to make her change her mind again. The next sentence to appear on the parchment shattered her illusions.

_Molly, don't do this to me!_ the words pleaded.

_Who was I kidding?_ she thought, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. _After everything that's happened, he wouldn't just drop this like that._

And, just to prove her right once more, Gilderoy wrote, _I'm coming to see you, my love. It can't end this way._

Molly opened her mouth in disbelief. "No, no, no! Don't!" she exclaimed in shock. She wrote feverishly on the parchment to try to stop him, but her end stayed blank. It could only mean he wasn't looking at the paper anymore. She glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to fade already; her husband would be back from work soon. She pushed herself from her chair and went straight to the kitchen so she could spot Gilderoy as soon as he Apparated into her garden. She couldn't let him stay here and ruin everything. There was enough damage done already.

She was already peeking out the window when the fireplace burst into emerald flames to reveal the tall blonde man. He didn't let her talk or move; he walked up straight to her and took her in his arms. She tried to push him away, but he held onto her.

"My love," he whispered in a low voice, "I won't let you leave me again. To stay away from you for one more minute will break my heart." He stroked her scarlet hair with his hand as he spoke.

"Gilderoy, let me go!" she ordered him, struggling to get away from his grip. "You can't stay in the house, my husband will be home soon, and he'll go mad if he catches you here!"

He finally released her, and she roughly grabbed his arm to drag him outside. He didn't even try to resist. She stopped in the middle of the backyard, avoiding the infamous tree. She didn't want to be cornered this time. She looked him straight in the eye and said with determination, "This has to stop, Gilderoy. Are you aware of what you're asking me to do? You're asking me to break my marriage and throw away everything I've built up with Arthur over the years. It's nonsense!"

"But I love you..." He tried to take her hand, but she waved him away with anger.

"Stop manipulating me! You can't say you love me every time you want me to lean on your side."

"But it's the humble truth! I don't know what else to do to show you how precious you are to me," he answered abruptly. "I would never manipulate you." He gave her a wounded look.

"Gilderoy...I..." She sighed heavily. What more could she say to make him realize that none of this was making sense?

She decided to go with what she was feeling deep down inside. "I'm sorry, but I can't go on anymore. Even though I have feelings for you, I can't leave my family. This is where I belong, where I want to be. You said it would break your heart to stay away from me; well, it'll break mine if I abandon what I cherish so much. Please, Gilderoy, I need you to understand." She paused before giving her last argument. "If you really love me, then stop chasing me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Molly knew, at that precise moment, that he finally understood. He nodded in silence, and then held up his hand to touch her face. She let him do it, for the sake of what they had shared. She looked up at him reluctantly, afraid of what she might see in his gaze, but the blue abyss of his eyes only showed her an infinite source of love and devotion. They stood there for a moment, completely still, knowing that this would probably be the last time they would see each other.

Then, everything happened too fast for Molly to even comprehend what was going on. Arthur appeared from nowhere and jumped on Gilderoy, propelling both of them to the ground. As they started to fight, Molly yelled her husband's name, but he didn't seem to hear her. Panicked, she bent down to try to separate the two men, and, next thing she knew, her vision blurred.

Dizziness overtook her, and she lost contact with reality.


	6. To His Muse The Epilogue

He watched from behind the curtains in the back room of Flourish and Blotts as the stage hands prepared the area for his autograph signing.

_Today's the day_, he thought as he saw the fan frenzy inside and out of the shop as spectators gathered around to see the man behind the books - Gilderoy Lockhart.

"This is your greatest work yet, Gilderoy," said Miss Vandercamp, who had seated herself at a table, multitasking his schedule.

"Well, of course it is, dear. It's about me. How could it not be?" He picked up his copy of _Magical Me_ and smiled at it. The cover smiled back at him. After all the books he had written before, he knew this book would be a surefire hit. Already literary critics were calling it a bestseller. And, from the look of the line forming around the store, he knew he would reap well from the profits.

As the crew put the final touches to the area, Lockhart gave himself the once-over in the mirror. He truly loved the way he looked when he was happy. He loved it even more when he wore his favorite forget-me-not blue dress robes, which matched perfectly with his eyes.

"Such a handsome devil you are," he told his reflection. He hadn't felt this giddy since…. He brushed off the memory before he could deeply reminisce about the past.

On cue, he strode through the curtain into a wave of applause and adoration. He gave his most humble smile to the warm reception as he bowed to the crowd. He smiled and bowed some more before taking his seat as the designated table. His pictures continued to work the crowd as he proceeded to sign his books.

_Yes, this is the life, _he thought as he pulled out his peacock quill. He could feel the intensity of love and respect focused on him. Every woman came to him, some trembling, some screaming, all saying the same things: "We love your work!" or "You're such a great writer!" or simply "I love you!" All and all, he was never short of compliments from his fans.

He looked up and smiled periodically between signatures. Every now and then, a bulb would flash to capture his pearly whites and wavy blond locks. He could hear the sighs from across the room as young woman stood just to watch him sign his books.

_This was, indeed, the life._

He had the love of his adoring public, the money was still rolling in from his previous book sales, and he was still as handsome as ever. What more could he ask for? Except... Again, he promptly brushed the notion from his mind before he could stroll down memory lane.

After an hour or so of signing, his hand began to ache. He was about to stop when he heard a childish, rude remark, and about him. As he looked up, he noticed the boyish face of some freckled, redheaded boy just across the room. Something about the boy looked oddly familiar, but before he could put his finger on it, he noticed the boy's companion.

The lightning bolt scar on the young lad's head was unmistakable. Lockhart knew instantly who he was.

"It _can't _be Harry Potter?" But indeed it was. The crowd gave way for him to get a clearer view. His luck couldn't have gotten any better. This was his golden opportunity to solidify himself within the literary community. There weren't any authors to date who had ever had a picture with the Boy Who Lived. And here, on this day, the child had walked into his shop, right into his hands.

It was like a leprechaun handing him his pot of gold and the rainbow to boot.

Lockhart proudly strode up to Harry Potter and clasped onto his shoulder. He smiled as the photographer flashed several pictures of the famous pair. Lockhart made sure the best possible shots had been taken before he announced his new teaching position at Hogwarts. And then, before he relinquished the boy, he handed him all of his literary work to make the moment extra special for him and the crowd.

He was sure to be on the front page of every wizarding paper after this event. _Yes, today is the day, _ he said to himself amongst the crowd's pandemonium.

As he made his way back to his table, his attention caught the sight of the redheaded boy again. Something about the boy's features reminded him of a similar chap he had run into some years ago in this same area of Diagon Alley.

"It can't be her son?" he muttered under his breath as he watched him join up with a group of young people, one of whom was a girl who had the same _familiar_ features. But he brushed the memories out of his mind again, refusing to lose himself in them.

Ever since that fateful day, his heart had a tendency to toy with him every time some ginger came across his path. For a while, it seemed as though every redheaded creature was somehow related to her. Of course, in his practical mind, that couldn't have been possible, but his heart would fool him every time, leaping out whenever he saw someone who looked almost like _her_. So he trained himself not to think about such things, indulging himself in his work instead.

Yet still, there had been moments when his heart would betray him.

"Hello, Mr. Lockhart." A sudden chill grabbed hold of him. He spun around. And again, his heart turned on him as he caught sight of his love, Molly Weasley. "It's so nice to meet you in person."

Her voice was so kind and sincere as she spoke to him. She stood nervously amongst the crowd. He was stunned. His eyes quickly looked over her features, memorizing every detail of her face. She hadn't changed. She was still kind after all these years. Her demeanor was humble as she wore some patched up Muggle like clothes and a hand knitted sweater. Her smile was still beautiful, probably even more beautiful than before since he hadn't seen her in awhile. There was a little soot on her nose, possibly from traveling by Floo. But that small bit of dirt seemed to enhance her beauty rather than besmirch it.

Lockhart quickly took hold of Molly's hand and placed a kiss upon it. His lips curled into a smile as he felt how smooth and soft it still were after all these years. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he finally managed to say after marveling her gentle touch. His words made her blush and had her in a fit of girlish giggles as he returned her smile with his. _Yes, truly a pleasure, _ he thought as he drank in her beauty. "So nice of you to come to my signing!"

"Well, I am a fan of your work, sir. A big fan." And he could honestly tell that she was just that - a fan. She smiled like all the others who stood and waited for him. Her smile was just a wide as theirs. But, as he looked her over, still smiling his charismatic smile, there was a part of him that hoped she knew how much more she meant to him. How much more than a fan she really was.

But how could she know she meant the world to him?

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" cried Arthur Weasley as he kneeled beside his unconscious wife. Lockhart tried to move in to get a good look at Molly, but Arthur quickly aimed his wand at him.

"It wasn't my fault! I wasn't the one who-!"

"You stupid idiot," Arthur seethed. "ALL OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT! You, with your good hair and flashy smile! YOU, with all your money and supposed good intentions! YOU! ALL YOU! What, did you think you could just waltz in and charm my wife into leaving her home and children?" Arthur quickly got to his feet, keeping his wand targeted on his enemy. "Did you think all your dazzle and good looks would make Molly leave her family behind?"

"It wasn't like that!" Lockhart managed to say weakly as he backed away from his lover's husband.

"Have you no shame? No respect for another man's marriage?" Lockhart didn't know how to answer that. All he could do was look terrified as Arthur kept his wand trained on him. "WELL? ANSWER ME! HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR MY MARRIAGE?"

"I LOVE HER, ARTHUR!" Lockhart yelled. He was resolute in his emotions, looking at the man firmly in the eye, as he confessed to him. "It had nothing to do with you. Nothing personal. I just fell in love with Molly."

Arthur gave a strange, sarcastic cackle before responding. "Nothing to do with me?"

Suddenly, red sparks flashed in Lockhart's direction from Arthur's wand. Luckily, Lockhart's quick (yet clumsy) reflexes had him move out of the way to take cover by a nearby tree.

"NOTHING TO DO WITH ME? I am her husband! SHE IS MY WIFE! It has EVERYTHING to do with me!" Arthur looked enraged, turning a deeper shade of crimson as he stared, menacingly, in Lockhart's direction.

"I have loved and protected her for many years. I have loved, raised, and protected our children since the day they were born! All I do, from sunup to sunset, I do gladly for them - OUR family! And you thought you could walk in and take my place?" More red sparks flew in Lockhart's direction. He managed to dodge Arthur's volleys before falling flat on his face, at a distance from the man.

But Arthur kept coming for him, moving slowly in his advancement as his anger continued to mount.

"I have known Molly for most of her life and loved her for just as long. I knew I wanted her to be my wife from the moment I met her. And you just picked up a fancy for her -"

"It is more than a fancy, sir!" Lockhart said defensively. "Molly was never a fling for me, and I've never treated her as such! We share more than a bond. I love her and I know she loves me in the way we made love!" As soon as he said it, he wanted to take the words back.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. At first, he stuttered as he tried to call Lockhart a liar. But something within Lockhart's conviction gave Arthur reason to pause. Lockhart could see his eyes quickly move back and forth as if he was trying to process a mountain of data. Lockhart could tell he was finished when he saw the blood drain away from his face, leaving Arthur looking white and demented.

"You… made love …to my wife?" If there was ever a case for temporary insanity, Arthur Weasley was clearly justified.

For a moment, Lockhart thought his fear had left him temporarily deaf, because Arthur clearly looked like a man screaming, yet no sound came from him. Lockhart looked up to the sky, searching for the full moon, as Arthur looked very deranged. Lockhart wondered if Molly had neglected to tell him her husband had been bitten. But, to his honest surprise, there was no moon that night.

Arthur's anger made him look inhuman. No longer was he the strong husband, defending his honor and family. What stood before Lockhart was a man completely engulfed by hell's jealous fury. From head to toe, Arthur was a blood stained red. Even his eyes were bloodshot, filled with hatred, as his veins bulged from his neck, fueling his need for vengeance. He stood there, silent but deadly. He didn't even utter a word as he raised his trembling wand.

Yet Lockhart knew what spell Arthur cast...as the spark, this time glowed green.

Everything moved in slow motion as the bolt thundered towards Lockhart. It moved so slowly that he could even see his life flash before his eyes. In a weak and feeble attempt to defend himself, Lockhart fired a red spark in Arthur's direction. But he feared his attempt fell short, as he felt himself fall to the ground, causing his aim to veer off course.

"Goodbye, cruel world," Lockhart said softly before he crashed to earth. But, strangely enough, he was still alive.

As he looked to his feet, the old familiar garden gnome was propped up against him. Just then, he heard a thud, as if a heavy body had hit the ground. Arthur Weasley lay unconscious. Apparently, Lockhart's wayward shot had ricocheted off a nearby wash bucket and landed square in Arthur's chest. Arthur landed awkwardly next to his still unconscious wife.

"Thank you?" Lockhart said to the gnome. Part of him wondered, as he looked at the thing, if it had meant to save him or sacrifice him for the family's sake. In any case, he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

As Lockhart looked between the two bodies, a heavy burden settled upon him as he realized the mess he had caused. There was no way Molly would leave with him now. She hadn't been going to leave with him anyway, but he had been too blind and desperate to see that. The fear of being alone had overtaken his rationale.

But there was no way he could leave her in this mess he'd made. The truth was out there, and he knew Arthur couldn't love his wife the same way ever again, not after what he knew. Molly would be devastated but still determined to save her marriage. Lockhart would be condemning Molly to a life of heartache and suffering, leaving her with a husband who might never be able to forgive her for her one time sin.

There was only one thing he could do. With a wave of his wand, Lockhart wiped Arthur's memory of him. Never would the man know the trouble Lockhart had caused within their marriage.

Once the charm was complete, Lockhart turned his attention to Molly.

He knelt down beside her to cradle her body in his arms. He was relieved to see no harm had come to her, as he could feel her breath on his face. He gathered all he could from the moment, savoring the sweet embrace for the final time.

"I now understand, _Mrs_. Molly Weasley, that there isn't any room in your life for a man like me, who has so much love for you." He swallowed hard to keep his trembling heart together. "And I now understand that your heart is simply too full with the love of your family to ever have room for me." His tears trailed down his cheeks, washing onto her face as he tried to keep himself sane while trying to say goodbye. He took a deep breath as prepared to Oblivate her memory. "But if you can keep some bit of me in the back of your mind, just a small bit to remember something of me by, then maybe my heart can manage to go on without you."

It was done. All the research, the laughs, the special dinner, and the passionate way they had made love, all gone from her. If she could remember anything, it would be his brilliant bright smile, which she would think came straight from a dream.

Lockhart managed to move their bodies onto a swing at the back porch of their house. He conjured a blanket and laid it over them, making it look as if they had spent a relaxing evening together under the stars.

Without fanfare or notice, he walked away, leaving his one love behind.

"Mr. Lockhart?" He was startled to hear her voice again as he returned from his reverie. Her eyes still beamed brightly at him, clueless to their connection. "Mr. Lockhart, could you sign these for Harry Potter?" Molly gave him the stack of books he had presented to Harry earlier.

"Certainly, my dear. Anything for my fans." He smiled brightly to her even though his soul was tearing itself apart. His peacock quill appeared in his hands as he quickly got to work autographing the books. One by one, he would graciously hand them back to her, his smile never failing him even though his heart had given out moments ago.

As he got down to his last book, he noticed something odd in the way the book felt in his hands. As he looked at the front cover, he realized why.

**_Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests._**

It was the book that had changed his life forever. The book that had brought true love into his life. After he had left Molly at the Burrow, the book had been released only days later. It was another stunning success, citing its popularity amongst housewives and house elves in the wizarding community. The work even managed to top the _Daily Prophet's_ bestsellers list.

But Lockhart had opted not to do any promotional work on that book. At the time, it was too painful to do any press on it. When Miss Vandercamp was able to confirm that the scandalous article was being dropped, Lockhart set off on a long journey, visiting banshees, chasing ghouls, hanging out with hags, and other various creatures. From his travels, his next bestselling books would spawn.

But he had never looked back on _Household Pests_.

"Something wrong?" Molly asked as she noticed how he paused at that book.

Lockhart quickly cleared his throat, as he recovered, "Nothing, my dear. I'm afraid that the day has been a bit long on me." He quickly turned to a page to emblazon his signature on it. But as he opened up its bindings, his eye caught a phrase that he hadn't seen since he wrote it.

_To my muse_

It was his secret dedication to her. The woman who had consequently motivated the great works in his life. His fingers gently brushed over the letters as if he were trying to touch her, the woman who he knew could not remember him. He lowered his eyes as he tried to hold himself together.

"She must have been a great woman to inspire such a good book," Molly said softly as she watched him sign his name.

His eyes quickly shot to her. He wanted so desperately to take her in his arms and tell her everything. He wanted to curse the heavens for having her so close to him, yet so damn far. But it was no use.

What was done was done. He couldn't change time, nor would he want to. The damaged had been to great.

He took a deep breath as he stifled the bittersweet emotions threatening to expose him. After dotting his "i" and crossing his "t," he handed the book back to her and mustered, with all his strength, another smile.

"She was a very good woman, indeed."


End file.
